


Cheaters Sometimes Propser

by postjentacular



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Anal Sex, And then napping, Blow Jobs, Cunnilingus, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, HP: EWE, Infidelity, Lemon, M/M, PWP, Threesome - F/M/M, smut smut smutty smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-17
Updated: 2016-10-17
Packaged: 2018-08-22 23:52:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,126
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8305918
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/postjentacular/pseuds/postjentacular
Summary: In which many infidelities occur.





	

“Where are my glasses?” Harry’s disembodied voice called from somewhere under the bed, “Hermione, could you at least try and help? Robards’ll kill me if I’m late again.” He crawled out from the darkness and began methodically dumping the contents of his bedside table onto the growing pile in the middle of their bedroom floor.

Hermione rolled over in bed and sat up to watch him, “You’re a wizard, Harry.” He barely stopped what he was doing to give her a blank stare. “You’re. A. Wizard. Harry,” she repeated, slowly enunciating each word, his stare didn’t change. She picked up her wand from her own bedside table and wordlessly accio-ed Harry’s glasses from the pile of miscellaneous things in the middle of the floor which he had already _thoroughly_ checked. She held them just out of his reach, only conceding them in exchange for a long, slow kiss.

“You’re going to make me late again,” he murmured as they pulled apart at last. She sent him on his way with a final chaste peck on the lips. “Quiddich tonight,” he reminded her as he headed for the floo. She counted to three in her head before she heard him return to retrieve his quiddich kit from the pile in the middle of the floor before he, at last, floo-ed to the Ministry.

She climbed out of bed and padded barefoot to the kitchen to start her own day: coffee, post, newspaper then work. At her desk, she tucked her feet up under her pyjama-clad legs, pulled the first book closer and with a flick of her wand her Quick-Quotes Quill began to jot down her translation. Working from home certainly had its advantages.

Hours later, once her third cup of coffee had long gone so cold a warming charm wouldn’t’ve helped and several feet of parchment had neatly coiled itself on the floor by her desk, the whoosh of the fireplace jolted her back to reality. “I wasn’t expecting you ‘til later,” Hermione said without looking up from her text.

“It is later, pet,” Draco drawled as he stepped up behind her and buried a kiss into the curls on the top of her head.

“Sorry, time got away from me.”

“Always does. What is it this time? Uses of Gillyweed in the seventeenth century? Gnome racing?” He picked up the dusty book from her desk and read the cover, “ _Personal Correspondence Of Hesphaestus Gore_. Riveting.” She snatched the book back from him, “Is it sordid? I bet it’s sordid, those old Ministers were always up to something filthy.”

“It’s not sordid,” she confirmed, “it’s all just owls trying to set up meetings with goblin leaders to quell various revolts. Quite pedestrian, really.”

“Shame,” he pouted, as he rested his chin on the top of her head and slid his hands under the faded Gryffindor quiddich t-shirt he knew wasn’t hers, “I’m always looking for inspiration.”

“You’re incorrigible,” she chastised as he drummed his fingers gently against her ribs.

He murmured in agreement as he kissed a delicate trail down her neck. “You don’t seem to mind,” he whispered huskily between kisses.

“Hmm?”

“Well,” he slid a hand up her chest to cup her left breast, “these don’t seem to mind” he said as he circled his thumb over her pebbled nipple. “And I’m confident that there are other parts in agreement,” he continued, as his other hand drifted over her taut stomach and his pinkie finger dipped just under the waistband of her pyjamas.

His hand stilled there, Hermione placed her own on top of his and pulled it roughly between her legs into her now-moistening folds, “I don’t mind,” she said through a moan as her hips bucked at his fingers gliding past her sensitive nub.

He gave a low chuckle, “I’ve had you in three different libraries but never here, not on your desk, not over your desk, not you spread across your books while I fuck you long and slow. Do you want that?” She gasped as his thumb flicked directly over her clit, “Uh uh,” he gave her nipple a sharp tug which caused a squeal, “use your words, Granger.”

“Yes,” she huffed breathlessly.

He gave a smirk as he pulled his hand from her pyjama bottoms and yanked them to the floor as she stood. She grabbed the bottom of her t-shirt to strip it away, “Leave it on,” he ordered as he perched her on the edge of her desk and spread her legs. He kissed her hungrily as her hands moved down his chest, under his robes, to his belt. “Not yet,” he said, and fell to his knees.

He pecked quick gentle kisses up alternating thighs until he reached her apex where he pressed a sloppy kiss. He butterflied open her glistening folds with his thumbs and blew a sharp exhale; her back arched at the sensation. His hands moved to her hips to steady her as he sucked her clit between his teeth. She bucked forcibly against his hands and let out a throaty moan, _Gods_ , he thought, _how he loved that sound_. He released her clit and let his tongue explore further, it slipped easily into her wet hole as she ground into him. Her walls fluttered and clenched around his tongue as she breathlessly demanded more.

He was able to slide two dry fingers into her with no difficulty; he leaned back slightly to look up at her, her eyes were closed as she pinched and tugged at her own pert nipples. “Look at me,” he demanded with a low growl, her eyes flashed open and met with his. His usual smirk settled across his face as he twisted and hooked his two fingers to hit the spot that – without fail – caused her to fall apart; he watched unblinkingly as she came hard, fast and loud, shouting his name as she quaked on his pumping fingers.

Once her last tremor had passed he gave her lower lips an almost chaste kiss and removed his fingers. He stood up between her legs and she watched him shamelessly lick his fingers clean. “Ready to go again?” he asked, she gave a sly smile and he pulled himself into a ravenous kiss. His hands entangled in her curls as he pushed her back to lie on the desk; the corner of _Spellman’s Syllabary_ dug into the back of her head as she landed on the desk and in her rush to move she knocked over a bottle of ink, ruining two feet of blank parchment.

“Maybe this is why we don’t do this here?” she suggested as he struggled not to laugh at her.

“We’ll chalk it up to a failed experiment. Bed?”

“Bed,” Hermione agreed.

He scooped her up – her arms around his neck, legs around his waist – and carried her through the flat to the bedroom. His shows of strength always caught her by surprise; his lithe body belying the muscle underneath. He dropped her somewhat unceremoniously onto the bed and quickly stripped off his clothes before he slowly crawled up her body peppering her skin with licks and nibbles.

Caught unawares, he found himself flipped onto his back, she straddled his chest and held his arms tight to the mattress as she claimed a kiss. She swiped her tongue along the seam and he quickly opened; she slid her tongue in and caught the taste of herself which still lingered. Sitting up again and let go of his arms, she reached behind and gave his cock a few firm tugs. He ran both hands up her thighs and rested them lightly on her hips, she took his hands and placed them back on the bed, “Stay,” she warned.

She inched back then sat up high, she gave his cock a final stroke then sat down on it, taking the whole length in one fast impalement. He gawked at her in almost disbelief as she stilled for a moment to get used to the feeling of fullness. “Fuck,” he breathed, in awe. She quirked an eyebrow at his exclamation and began to slowly rock her hips in a figure of eight.

As her thrusts increased his hands came back to her hips, she gave a quick questioning stare, “Never been one for rules,” he puffed. She bucked harder as he held on. He felt the twinge in his bollocks that told him he was close, “Granger, I’m gonna–”

“Not without me,” she promised as her hand shot down to her clit and began to knead vigorously. Draco moved one hand to the small of her back to support her and the other threaded with hers rubbing her clit furiously. She was soaking wet, dripping all over him, as he felt her clamp around him it pushed him over the edge; she pulled their hands away from her clit and rode out her own orgasm with him.

Spent, she collapsed onto the bed next to him; once their breathing returned to normal he spooned around her, he fitted like a second skin as their sticky sweaty mess cooled between them. “I love you,” he felt her freeze in his arms and could practically hear her brain going into panic. “Granger, don’t overthink it, just go out with me?” he asked softly, “Tomorrow night, a proper Friday night date. Dinner, a movie, dancing, whatever you want. We can go somewhere muggle, another city, another country, somewhere where no one knows us. We can break all the rules and I’ll stay the night.”

“I can’t.”

“You can’t? You can’t _tomorrow_ , or you can’t _you can’t_?” 

“I can’t tomorrow,” he relaxed a little, but she continued, “and I _can’t_.” She took a deep, shaky breath before going on, “We do this and it’s fine, it’s great, it’s better than great, but I can’t do dinner and a movie with you, I have a–”

“Potter,” he supplied harshly.

“–and you’re…”

“A former Death Eater? Your dirty secret? A fuck buddy? Unlovable?” he offered.

“No! Draco, no.” She twisted in his arms to face him, “It’s not like that, I wish it didn’t have to be like this, but I’m dating Harry, I love Harry and I can’t...” she kissed him gently on the lips, “...you know I can’t.”

“So this is just sex?” he clarified.

“It has to be,” she admitted softly.

“Fine.” He roughly pulled on enough clothes so as not to cause public outrage and, without neither a tergeo nor a scourgify, he disapparated.

* * *

The crack of apparition didn’t move Draco, he continued staring into the middle-distance watching the dust motes float in last of the daylight bathing his flat as the wards yielded briefly to let someone in. He’d sat down on the sofa as soon as he got back from his afternoon with Hermione and hadn’t moved since; he was disheveled and knew he reeked of stale sweat and sex. He said nothing as Harry entered the lounge, “You look like shit, love,” Harry said. “Bad day?”

“Something like that,” Draco murmured in agreement.

“Work?” Harry asked as he leant in for a kiss which was gently reciprocated.

“No.”

“Has Lucius been on your case again?”

“No.”

“You want to talk about whatever it is or just stare angrily at the wall?” Draco said nothing. “Okay then,” Harry gave him a kiss on the forehead and left him to it. He returned a few minutes later with two mugs of tea, he pushed one into Draco’s hands before sitting down next to him and joined him in staring at the wall.

Harry waited until his tea was finished before he spoke, “Does the wall even know what it’s done?”

It was a few more minutes before Draco finished his own tea, “Sorry,” he said quietly.

“Was that for me or for the wall?” Harry teased. Time had been that Harry wouldn’t’ve have had to ask, it wouldn’t’ve been for him; now five years down the line, sometimes it was.

“You,” Draco said as he turned to face Harry. “The wall knows it’s the one that needs to apologise,” he added with a weak smile.

“But the problem with walls,” Harry said putting both their mugs down on the side table, “is that they’re terrible with saying what they mean, which means that you – the humble human – have to be the better person.”

“I think we can both agree I’m neither humble nor better.”

Harry pulled him into an easy hug, “Can you at least try to be the bigger person?”

“Bigger?” Draco smirked, “I can live with bigger.”

“You’re incorrigible,” Harry said.

“That’s a mighty big word there, Potter, did your girlfriend teach you that?”

“Among other things,” Harry said as he climbed onto Draco’s lap and slipped his tongue between Draco’s lips to taste the sweetness of his tea. The kiss was rough and left Draco practically panting when Harry pulled away to work on Draco’s belt.

“I’m sweaty and gross,” Draco protested as he stilled Harry’s hand.

Harry didn’t stop, “I plan on getting you sweatier.”

 _Fuck!_ Draco thought, _I should not be doing this now_. He’d managed almost a year without either of them finding out about the other and it had been good. Not just the sex, but the challenge of not being caught and now, well now Harry’s hand was wrapped around his half-hard cock stroking him the way only Harry knew how. _It was inevitable, those perfect lips would wrap around his cock, taste her and well, it was good while it lasted._

Draco kissed him again, hard and wet, Harry was pumping faster now, but Draco didn’t want to break the kiss, he wrapped his hand around Harry’s neck and held him there. He felt his balls tighten, that tell-tale sign that he was close; Harry clearly felt it too as he slowed his strokes and pulled away. He moved from Draco’s lap and settled himself between his legs, he freed Draco’s erection from his silk boxers and licked a slow thick stripe from balls to tip. Draco closed his eyes and tipped his head back awaiting the inevitable.

It didn’t come.

Harry licked around the head, lapping the beads of pre-cum, while he gently massaged Draco’s balls with one hand and palmed himself through his trousers with the other. He took him deep, nose buried in golden curls and hollowed his cheeks which wretched a moan from far within Draco. Draco’s entire body quivered as he warned Harry and tried to pull back. Harry held him fast and looked up at Draco through his curtain of messy hair; Draco saw the corners of Harry’s lips pull up into a smile as he came.

Harry swallowed and as he pulled back he left a trail of butterfly kisses along Draco’s inner thighs. Harry sat up high and tugged Draco down for a kiss, “I love you,” he whispered as their lips parted.

“You too,” Draco replied breathlessly. “Do you…”

Harry shook his head, “Too late,” he indicated to the wet patch seeping through his trousers as he got up from the floor and settled himself back on the sofa, his head on Draco’s lap.

Draco absent-mindedly curled a strand of Harry’s hair around his finger while his thoughts wandered. His usual post-coitial haze nowhere to be found in the jumble of thoughts that all led back to how close a call he’d just had. “Do you ever feel bad about cheating on her?” he asked, breaking their comfortable silence.

Harry chewed his bottom lip in contemplation before replying, “Is it cheating if I was with you first?”

“Yes.”

“Is it cheating if it’s just this, no dates?”

“Yes.”

“Is it cheating if–”

“Yes,” Draco shifted slightly to look Harry straight in the eyes. “It’s cheating if you’re drunk, it’s cheating if you say ‘no homo’, it’s cheating if she’s doing the same thing, it’s cheating if you have to ask ‘is it cheating if?’”

“Do you think she would do the same thing?”

“Potter, it would have to be an exceptional man for her to cheat on you,” he said assuredly.

Harry blushed at the implied compliment, “Draco,” he started hesitantly, “you don’t feel like you’re being cheated on, do you?”

Draco shook his head, “I knew what I was getting into with you.”

“Is it cheating if I love you both?” Harry asked softly.

A genuine smile crept across Draco’s face; the smile that so few got to see so seldom, the one that Harry knew exactly how to cause. “It’s adorable, but it’s still cheating.” _How is it_ , Draco thought, _that that man can still melt him into a pile of mush with just one sentiment?_

* * *

Hermione was tucked up in bed, the gentle lumos of her wand floating above her head giving enough light to read when she heard the crack of Harry apparating into their hallway. He came into their bedroom and dropped his quiddich bag by the door, she smiled hello and tipped her head to the side in expectation of his usual kiss on her cheek. “Shower,” he apologised, and stepped into the en-suite leaving the door open. From the bed, Hermione could see flashes of bare skin as he stripped for the shower.

“How was quiddich?” she asked, loud enough to be heard over the now-running water, “Did you win?”

“Always,” he shouted back. “Still on for tomorrow?”

“Yep,” she agreed enthusiastically, “a proper date. I was even thinking of wearing something that wasn’t pyjamas.”

Harry stepped into the doorway, with a towel wrapped around his waist and rivulets of water still running down his chest, “No pyjamas?” he teased. She nodded as he stepped back into the bathroom to dry off, “Whatever will my girlfriend say when she finds out I’m going to dinner with a girl who wears actual clothes? A dress, perhaps some shoes, maybe lingerie, not pyjamas–.”

“Your girlfriend’s not wearing pyjamas right now, why don’t you come over here and ask her?”

* * *

Draco walked across the Auror Headquarters, he was regularly called up to level two from his research laboratory a few floors down, but his frequent visits did nothing to diminish the stares he got from the few aurors who still held a grudge. He quickly found Harry in the stationery cupboard searching – seemingly fruitlessly – through a box. _Stationery cupboard_ , thought Draco, _what a cliché._

“Tonight,” Draco said. It wasn’t a question.

“Can’t,” Harry responded without turning round. “Dinner date with Hermione.”

 _Fuck it_ , Draco thought, _here’s hoping that Gryffindor bravery is sexually transmitted_ , “Actually you don’t, she just owled, some female emergency with the Weaselette.”

“You read my mail‽”

Draco waved his hand dismissively, “That’s neither here nor there, your mail is hardly exciting, Potter.” He leaned in closer, reaching for the stack of parchment by Harry’s head, and whispered, “Half an hour, your bed.” With the stack of parchment in hand he turned and strode out the door. By the time he reached the public floo he’d dropped the parchment on an empty desk.

As ever in the Ministry – and more often than not when he was out in public – he could feel the stares; no matter what he did to some he would always be the Malfoy boy, the kid Death Eater, and they were just waiting for him to trip up. They were watching him now and he could feel the question in their stares, _Where is he going?_ He stepped into the green flames and called out, loud enough for them to hear, “Malfoy Manor,” and as soon as he stepped out of the fireplace he grabbed a pinch of floo powder from the box atop the mantelpiece and stepped straight back into the flames.

Exiting the floo Draco followed the sound of running water down the hallway and through the bedroom to the en-suite bathroom where he rapped gently on the door; the water turned off, “Harry?”

“Wrong lover.”

“You can’t be here,” Hermione hissed through the crack in the door, “Harry’ll be home any minute now.”

“I wouldn’t be so sure about that, I heard the Minister calling Potter into his office saying something about cancelling all plans for the evening.” She gave a little groan. “So how about it? Just sex?”

Draco shrugged off his robes, kicked off his socks and shoes and settled back onto the bed. He heard the whoosh of the floo and the footfalls of someone heading their way; he knew he had one last chance to apparate away. He swallowed the feeling, shook his head to physically dislodge the thought and called out, “You better be naked when you come in here.” Less than a minute later, with timing so perfect he couldn’t have scripted it, both doors to the bedroom opened and his lovers walked in.

“Harry!” Hermione exclaimed walking into the bedroom.

“Harry?” asked Harry, “It’s _me_ you’re surprised to see here‽”

Hermione grabbed her robe and wrapped it around herself. “Nothing we haven’t seen before, pet,” Draco drawled. Hermione shot him a look that could castrate a man.

“Why are you not surprised to see him?” Hermione asked of a naked Harry.

“Why do you think?” Draco answered on his behalf.

“I’m not talking to you, Malfoy.” Hermione snapped without taking her eyes from Harry, “But you hate him, Harry.”

“No, I don’t,” Harry said as he ran his hands sheepishly though his hair.

“He really doesn’t,” Draco concurred.

“You hate him,” Harry accused evenly.

“No, she doesn’t,” Draco said. Hermione glared at him, “Okay, sometimes she does.”

“When she puts her hands on her hips?” asked Harry.

“Um hum,” Draco agreed, “and especially when she huffs the hair out of eyes.”

“Like that?” said Harry. Both men turned to look at Hermione.

“Like that,” agreed Draco with a grin.

“I cannot believe you two, this is not a joke. You,” she turned to glare at Harry, “are cheating on me. How long? How long have you been fucking Malfoy?”

“Since eighth year,” he conceded. “He’s ‘quiddich practice.’”

“Eighth year‽ Since before us? No, I can’t…” she marched to the door but was stopped by the click of a colloportus. It was a simple enough charm for her to undo even without her wand, but its presence alone was enough to cause her to pause.

“Hermione,” she wasn’t used to her first name coming from Malfoy in normal conversation, “hear him out.”

She didn’t turn around as she felt Harry step closer behind her, “‘Mione, I love you. You have to believe me, I really do, but…” he hummed and hawed briefly before he continued, “...but I love him too and I get that you’re angry and you’re allowed to be angry and hate me and call me every name under the sun but you cheated on me too so–”

“That’s different,” she fumed as she turned to face him with fire in her eyes.

He met her challenge, “How exactly is it different, Hermione? You’re clearly shagging him!”

“And you have _a relationship_ with him; at least all I did was sleep with him!”

Draco cleared his throat, Harry and Hermione spun to face him. Hermione looked ready to kill him and Draco avoided both their eyes, “Just because you couldn’t say it, doesn’t mean it isn’t true.” Hermione’s anger visibly disappeared, she felt about three inches tall as she stared at her feet.

“‘Mione?” Harry asked. He stepped up to her and placed his hands on her shoulders, she continued to stare at her feet, “Hermione?” he asked again and, with a finger under her chin, tipped her head up to meet his eyes. “Do you love him?”

“I didn’t mean to,” she said very quietly.

Harry gave a little laugh and pressed his forehead to hers, “Nobody means to,” he said just as quietly. “He’s a manipulative, obnoxious little shit, how could anyone love him?” He gave her a quick kiss on the tip of her nose.

“You forgot annoying and aggravating,” she said throwing a smile over Harry’s shoulder to the bed.

“Positively irksome,” Harry added lightly, as he pulled her tighter into his arms.

“You know,” Draco said raising from the bed and crossing the room to join them, “I’m feeling a little put out here.”

“And petulant.” Harry nodded in agreement with her.

Draco stood behind Harry and tentatively placed his hand on Harry’s hip, Harry relaxed into the touch as Hermione stretched up on her tiptoes to kiss Draco over Harry’s shoulder. He let her deepen the kiss, he couldn’t tell if her moan was thanks to him or Harry’s hands which had found their way to cup her arse through her silk robe – or both.

 _Well_ , Draco thought, _that went better than expected._

Despite being sandwiched in the middle, Harry managed to guide the three of them to the bed; as Draco and Hermione broke their kiss so he could strip, Harry lowered her to the bed and took over where Draco left off. Harry propped himself up on one elbow and allowed his free hand to slip into the top of her robe and caress her while he explored her mouth. A now-naked Draco mirrored Harry, “When do I get a turn?” he pouted.

Harry broke briefly from Hermione to give Draco a peck on the forehead, Hermione did the same before they turned back to each other. “Guess I’ll just have to make my own fun,” Draco lamented as he kissed down her throat and up her breast. He circled the point with his tongue before continuing his journey downwards. He untied her robe as he kissed down her taut stomach, around her navel and into the tidy curls on her mound; her thighs relaxed open and he pressed a messy, open-mouthed kiss to her glistening folds before licking a long, slow stripe which drew a moan from deep within her, muffled by Harry’s lips.

At the moan, Harry opened his eyes to see what exactly had caused it. He saw Draco between her legs, his smirking mouth gleaming with her juices. Draco crawled up the bed and captured Harry’s swollen bottom lip between his; Draco coaxed his mouth open and when their tongues met Harry froze and pulled away. Draco quirked his eyebrow in an unspoken question, but Harry just continued to stare in confusion. Harry unconsciously licked his bottom lip causing Draco to realise what had just happened. _Interesting._ “You didn’t recognise the taste yesterday? Did you?” It was barely a question.

“Why would he?” Draco knew she wasn’t asking as to why they’d shared her taste the previous day.

“Really‽” he looked between the two of them for confirmation.

“I… we– erm, it’s…” Harry spluttered before he gave up and shrugged his shoulders defeatedly.

“You’re in for a treat, pet,” Draco stage-whispered to Hermione, “despite recent evidence he’s really rather good with that tongue of his.” He rolled over to lie by Hermione’s side, “Potter!” he commanded, “Front and centre, you’ve a lady to pleasure.”

“I’m gonna wipe that smirk off your face,” Harry growled belligerently. Draco arched an eyebrow in challenge and Harry pounced across the bed for a brutal kiss. Not expecting Draco to put up any resistance, Harry was taken aback when he was swiftly pinned to the mattress and held in place by Draco sat firmly across his thighs.

“M’lady,” Draco offer his hand to Hermione, “your stead awaits.”

“Malfoy,” Harry’s voice had a glint of warning in it, which Draco diffused by swiping his free thumb around the head of Harry’s cock. Hermione accepted Draco’s hand and settled herself astride Harry’s face. Harry was immediately enraptured by her enveloping musk and quickly put his really rather good tongue to its intended use.

Hermione and Harry quickly settled on a rhythm with her setting the pace; Draco straddled Harry’s thighs and contentedly stroked both their cocks. “What do you think he’d prefer, pet?” Draco asked, “Top,” he teased along Harry’s underside from tip to balls, “or bottom?” he continued his ministrations down to Harry’s puckered hole.

“Doesn’t matter,” Hermione puffed, “both so hot.”

Draco languidly stroked Harry’s cock, “Potter, top or bottom?” Hermione’s squeal at the murmur from between her legs drowned out Harry’s muffled reply. “Can’t hear you?”

She raised herself a little taller, away from Harry’s tongue, “Fuck me, Draco.” Draco grinned and hooked his hands under Harry’s knees pulling them further apart. He whispered the augmented aguamenti charm and slide one, then very quickly a second, finger into Harry’s arse. He gave a couple of gentle pumps before scissoring and adding a third finger.

“You’re doing really well,” Draco cooed, “really relaxed, you ready?” Hermione slowed her pace as Draco gave himself a final slick before he slowly inched into Harry. Once he was in to the hilt, he stilled as Harry gasped at the sensation of being so full.

“Move, Malfoy!” Harry demanded as he arched up to suck Hermione’s clit back between his teeth. She took that as her cue and began to gyrate in time with Draco’s thrusting hips and his tugs on Harry’s cock.

It didn’t take long before Harry felt the tugging in his balls that told him he was close, “I’m gonna–”

Draco slowed his thrusts and grasped tightly at Harry’s hilt, “Manners, Potter,” he growled, “ladies first.” Harry doubled-down and very quickly her walls were twitching around his tongue, he slipped two fingers in to give her something to clamp onto as she vocally rode out her orgasm. She shifted across the bed, gave Harry a lazy kiss then collapsed boneless onto the pillows.

Draco pulled out and stretched up the bed to claim his own kiss from Harry, before he gently slapped him on the hip to turn over. Harry obliged quickly and scrambled onto all fours, Draco held both Harry’s hips as he re-entered him more forcefully at a well-practiced angle which hit Harry’s prostate at first thrust. Harry saw stars as he grabbed his cock instinctively and jerked himself hard, it was only a couple more of Draco’s perfectly aligned thrusts before Harry came all over his hand, Draco followed swiftly in his wake.

* * *

The rhythmic breathing of his sleeping partners didn’t change as Draco slipped out of bed and gathered his clothes from the floor. He slowly opened the door as he tried to remember if it creaked, when the handle pulled itself from his hand and the door closed itself with the click of a colloportus. He turned to see Hermione lazily putting her wand back down on the bedside table. “I don’t stay the night,” he reminded her.

Harry shifted to make a bit more space in the bed and pulled back the covers, “Now you do.”

**Author's Note:**

>  **Standard fanfic disclaimer:** If you recognise it, it belongs to J.K. Rowling; this is just fanfic for nothing other than entertainment purposes.


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